Compared to the far more popular cycles by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Ludwig van Beethoven, the piano sonatas of Franz Joseph Haydn have for too long occupied an inferior position among listeners, though they are highly esteemed by pianists who know their importance and greatness. Musically, Haydn's sonatas are formally innovative and rich in invention and expression, and they require great skill and taste to be performed effectively. This is perhaps why only the most confident and capable of pianists, such as Marc-André Hamelin, Jenö Jandó, John McCabe, and Rudolf Buchbinder, attempt to record complete sets. Add to this select company the name of Ekaterina Derzhavina, a Russian pianist who has established a fine reputation for her interpretations of Bach, and who now demonstrates her thorough mastery of Haydn. Playing with clean lines and a refined touch, Derzhavina creates the effect of Classical period practice on a modern piano, and by avoiding the pedals, her sound is crisp and intimate, without the quirkiness of a fortepiano's tone quality. These recordings were made between 1993 and 2008, and Profil's audio quality is first-rate, with close microphone placement and a pleasantly resonant acoustic that makes the music especially appealing.

This complete cycle of Mozart piano sonatas, with some very desirable additions, has been winning raves in its native Britain, and it's a pleasure to report that they're fully justified. Class Leon McCawley's interpretations of Mozart under two headings -- under that of recordings that place the Mozart sonatas at the center of his output, instead of to the side where they have long resided, and under the more general heading of modern-instrument recordings influenced by the discoveries of period-instrument performers. Class them also as fully thought-out, technically unimpeachable performances of the first class. McCawley takes pains to make his piano sound nearly as smooth as a fortepiano, and to bring out small details hidden in the performances of pianists who bang away. He is alert to the distinctive textures of each sonata, drawing on the insight that Mozart's keyboard textures developed hand in hand with his ability to exploit the large orchestral textures popularized by the Mannheim court orchestra and other virtuoso ensembles of the day. The bigger early sonatas, like the Piano Sonata in D major, K. 284, sound, as they should, like little keyboard symphonies. McCawley's readings are clean, neither too fragile nor too romantic. He plays Mozart's sonatas as serious works, but he has an admirable sense of when to back off and let the music speak for itself -- especially nice is the K. 533 sonata (with its K. 494 completion) at the beginning of disc 5. The magnificent first movement, in which a seemingly inconsequential theme is unexpectedly shown to be the basis first for invertible counterpoint, then for a fugue, and then for some truly profound Bachian combinations of themes, profits handsomely here from McCawley's decision to stay out of the music's way. The more minimal Sonata in B flat, K. 570, is arrestingly graceful. A nice bonus is the inclusion of the Kleine Gigue, K. 574, a wonderful miniature that was a product of Mozart's growing engagement with counterpoint; disc 5 is also filled out with some other fine but fairly obscure short pieces. The closing Adagio in B minor is a unique performance in which McCawley finds Mozart's despair not in the attenuated opening phrase, but in its consequent phrase, and develops his interpretation from there. If you are new to Mozart sonatas, sample some fortepiano performances as well, perhaps by Malcolm Bilson or Siegbert Rampe. If the modern grand is more your speed, this new set can stand with any of the great recordings of the past.

With Die Zauberflöte, René Jacobs continues his exemplary traversal of Mozart operas, having already recorded the da Ponte operas, La Clemenza di Tito, and Idomeneo. Jacobs has not only a formidable knowledge of historically informed performance practice, but a bold inventiveness and originality, and in the comedies, a bubbling, earthy wit. He is a master of comic timing, and there are many moments in Die Zauberflöte when he gives a lift or a pause to a phrase that's generally treated as routine, and spotlights a significant gleam of mirth or insight that might easily have gone unnoticed. For any listener who has loved this opera but has become jaded from overexposure to run-of the-mill or cute performances, Jacobs' version is likely to re-kindle a passion for its many delights. In the program notes he writes that it is "an exciting challenge to make the dialogue so lively and varied that listeners are not tempted to skip from one musical number to the next," and his success easily outstrips expectations. He simply offers so many surprises (some that might be considered daring or insufficiently respectful of the score) that even listeners who know the opera forward and backward will be kept on their toes. In his notes, however, Jacobs makes a scrupulous and systematic account for each of the apparent eccentricities of his interpretation, citing the libretto itself or the performing practices of Mozart's day. An example of his non-traditional approach is his treatment of the very long spoken interaction with Tamino, Papageno, and the Three Ladies that follows "Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja," in which he interjects sound effects and musical snippets and underscores some dialogue with improvisations on the fortepiano, in the manner of a melodram. The Three Ladies are so giddy that they sometimes can't help bursting into song, using music Mozart wrote but discarded before the premiere. Jacobs has a cast with the dramatic chops to pull off these hijinks with panache and naturalness so that they are genuinely funny without seeming silly. And they can sing! Few are international superstars; most are early in their careers, but they are attuned to the subtleties of singing Mozart and for the most part deliver outstanding performances. Daniel Behle's Tamino is pure and robustly heroic, and as Pamina, Marlis Petersen has a lovely lyrical innocence and plenty of strength. Daniel Schmutzhard and Sunhae Im as the secondary couple are absolutely secure vocally, and they bring a gleeful whimsicality to their roles. Anna-Kristiina Kaappola doesn't have as large a voice as is usually associated with the Queen of the Night, but it is consistent from its bottom to its stratospheric top, and her coloratura has a shimmering majesty. One gets the impression that her Queen is a physically small woman with a huge personality, a terrifying virago who sounds like she is spitting nails when she is angry. The smaller roles -- with Inga Kalna, Anna Grevelius, and Isabelle Druet as the Three Ladies, Kurt Azesberger as Monastatos, and Konstantin Wolff as the Speaker -- are all sung and acted beautifully. Marcos Fink doesn't quite have adequate vocal heft for the role, but his voice is warmly enveloping, and he makes an exceptionally humane and fatherly Sarastro; it's easy to see why the young lovers come to trust him. Jacobs' ensembles, Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin and RIAS Kammerchor, are entirely sensitive to the flexibility of his leadership and play and sing with spontaneous exuberance. The sound of Harmonia Mundi's beautifully produced album is wonderfully clean and lifelike, with excellent depth, clarity, and definition. Highly recommended.